


Ezreal + Knives = ???

by alainey



Series: Old Stuff from League of Fics [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Probably ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alainey/pseuds/alainey
Summary: Ezreal is a handsy person. This is something that Talon finds out the hard way, after inviting the explorer into his study to help him with some simple translations.Written for the prompt: Talon/Ezreal - Ezreal trying to help with Talon's work and failing.





	Ezreal + Knives = ???

Ezreal is a handsy person. This is something that Talon finds out the hard way, after inviting the explorer into his study to help him with some simple translations.

After one of the prior week’s targets had died clutching an odd set of disks, Talon had grown curious. He’d taken the disks—thin, wooden things, inscribed with a variety of characters from a language that Talon had neither the time nor the means to learn himself—and had asked the young explorer to drop by and take a look.

It’s the sort of thing that Talon had figured Ezreal would like—and, indeed, Ezreal had liked it, pocketing the disks with a small smile and a quick “I’ll see what I can do.”

At that point, Talon probably should have made Ezreal leave. But, according to Ezreal, the rest of the assassin’s study had “interested him,” and the boy had wanted to take a look. Talon had let him, not seeing the harm in just letting the young explorer look.

But Talon had not expected the touching. For Ezreal does not just look, instead, he _explores_ —picking up all of Talon’s stuff, tinkering with the various mechanisms and odd little toys that Talon chances upon during his work, and messing up the meticulously placed rows of knives that Talon had arranged just the other night. He’s insatiably curious, Talon finds, and so he’s not surprised when a high pitched curse (followed by the clatter of something suspiciously metal-sounding) resounds throughout his room.

Talon turns around with soft sigh.

Ezreal’s fingers are bleeding, and he’s looking at his hand with a disappointed frown. On the ground is one of Talon’s blades, a short, beautiful dagger of Shurimian craft that Talon had picked from the body of an equally beautiful Shurimian woman.

Talon walks forward to pick up his blade.

No dents, no scratches. That’s good.

He places the blade back on the table after careful inspection, and looks back up to find Ezreal laughing nervously.

“Uhm, sorry about your knife,” Ezreal says, his other hand ruffling the back of his head. It’s oddly endearing for a kid who’d just dropped one of Talon’s favorite weapons, but the assassin keeps his face impassive when he replies.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he responds, and Ezreal nods, relief washing over his face. And then, before Talon can do so much as turn back to his desk, Ezreal sticks his fingers in his mouth.

Talon stills. “What are you doing?” he asks—quickly, too quickly—and he wills his face back into its normal scowl.

“Human saliva helps heal wounds,” Ezreal answers awkwardly, his cheeks tinging red under Talon’s leveled stare.

“But it’s just—” a cut, Talon begins to argue, before letting out another sigh. If there’s anyone else as oblivious to their own weird mannerisms as Ezreal is, then Talon would be legitimately surprised. “You might want to think about where that blade has been.”

Ezreal looks between his fingers and the knife in morbid curiosity. He retracts tongue.

“I’ll get you a bandage,” Talon offers a second later, and Ezreal nods his head, still looking at the blade, before offering a solemn note of thanks.

So yes, Talon thinks, Ezreal is handsy.

But he’s also endearing in an odd sort of way. It’s only because of this that—when Talon returns not five minutes later to find traces of blood and spit on various objects throughout his room—he doesn’t really mind.

He wraps Ezreal’s bloody hand with clean bandages and a small smile.

**Author's Note:**

> In an effort to consolidate a lot of my old work, I'll be reposting most of my old league fic here. Most of these are very short and were written for specific prompts. This one is from 2014.
> 
> Also it's been like three years but @mintfoxmimi on tumblr drew really cute fanart based off of this here!


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